


Heavy Like A Stone

by Baamon5evr



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Red Wedding, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Memory Loss, POV Robb Stark, Resurrection, Robb Lives, Temporary Amnesia, Warg Robb Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 00:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16712587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baamon5evr/pseuds/Baamon5evr
Summary: He doesn't remember his birth. That's not so strange, no one does or should, but he does remember his rebirth.He really wishes he didn't.[Or Robb is resurrected by Thoros and is not happy about it.]





	Heavy Like A Stone

He doesn't remember his birth. That's not so strange, no one does or should, but he does remember his rebirth.

He really wishes he didn't.

**~*~*~**

Pain had started to become a constant for Robb fighting in the war. Every day came a new bruise, a new cut, a new ache or strain on his body. But this? This pain was different. It was everywhere, places he didn't even know existed. His body ached like he was an ancient decrepit creature. He could feel, think or see nothing but that pain for a long while and then suddenly his eyes flew open and he took a long deep, pain-filled breath.

It wouldn't occur to him for a while yet that he hadn't been breathing at all, much less that he had been dead.

**~*~*~**

Robb didn't know the people who surrounded him when he woke up, apparently from the grave. He didn't believe them at first but then he went to talk and his voice was a scratchy mess. His hand instinctively went towards his throat and felt the scars and stitches he hadn't noticed before. He got up and walked to the river to investigate, ignoring how weak on his feet he was, only to discover his neck was a mess of stitched thread and burns.

"Wasn't easy re-attaching your head." Thoros of Myr said nonchalantly, as if that sentence was one he uttered every day.

"Didn't even think it would work but I figured why not experiment a little? Worst thing was you stayed dead, so no consequences. You're probably going to have to change the stitching every sennight or so when it wears down and watch for infection while you're at it." Robb didn't respond. He was lost in his reflection. It wasn't just his neck, he also had angry, red scars running down the left side of his face, though not so gruesome as his neck.

He didn't linger long on his reflection. He bathed and got relatively clean clothes. He felt the other smaller wounds on his body that he just somehow knew were caused by quarrels, though he couldn't completely remember how. And of course there was the knife wound on his chest, where his heart was.

"I should be dead." Robb uttered, ignoring the way his voice was now raspy and broke on the words clumsily.

"You were dead. Didn't you hear anything I said?" Robb ignored Thoros' sarcasm in favor of something more important.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you bring me back?" He asked. Thoros was quiet for a while.

"I suppose the right thing to say would be because the night is dark and full of terrors and the Lord of Light needs you for the war to come. But the honest answer? I wanted to see if I could. And I did." Robb turned around to look at the priest. He stared at Robb, his face holding curiosity and also... delight, perhaps? Pride maybe?

"You should rest. Bodies from the Red Wedding are washing ashore more and more all the time. That wolf of yours went off on its own once we woke it to do who knows what. Haven’t seen it since, but beyond that you never know. You might get to see your mother and wife again if you're lucky." Thoros said before walking away. Robb watched him go but his mind wasn't on the red priest anymore.

 _I have a wife?_ He thought to himself.

**~*~*~**

Robb had more than one conversation with Beric, the other resident dead man walking, about how these things go. He learned his wounds would never fully heal, though they would grow better over time. It didn't inspire Robb with confidence that his head was partially literally attached by several threads, but he couldn't change that. Beric also went over side effects. He said memory loss was to be expected, especially since he was literally decapitated, and it would probably improve but not disappear. But then it was hard to tell with such a small sample size of just him and Robb (and Grey Wind but he didn't like to approach the Brotherhood’s encampment. He was most ill at ease around Thoros and Beric and even eyed Robb sometimes like something was wrong with him but when Robb was far enough away from the group, Grey Wind walked by his side much more sedate than he had been before).

Robb did begin to remember some things. He remembered snow over a veritable fortress. He remembered his father's stern voice and his mother's pride. He remembered running around Winterfell and laughing with a dark-haired boy who was not the same dark-haired boy with whom Robb felt he never wanted to be separated from, the raven-haired boy with the curly hair who he loved so much, who Robb wanted to remain attached at the hip to. There was also a red-haired girl who sung songs so sweet they made a protective urge rise in his chest, not to be confused with the brown-haired girl who inspired amusement and glee in Robb with every mischievous act. There were two other boys and he felt joy and a sense of responsibility towards them but also gut-wrenching sadness and guilt and horror. And strangely it made him feel anger towards the first dark-haired boy. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes, and yet he couldn't say why. He didn't remember why any more than he remembered any of those people's names. He hated the gaps in his memory more and more everyday as the men of the Brotherhood whispered around him about him like he couldn't hear. All they said confused him more.

They said his name, Robb Stark, like it should mean something of great import to him. It didn’t. He supposed it must be the name of a noble family, a small house perhaps, but the way they said it made him doubt that. One man in particular with an accent like Robb's seemed to want to say more, tell him more, but Beric said it was best if Robb's memory returned on its own.

Sometimes he heard them whispering about how he was a king once. Surely not. They mentioned lots of different kings actually, so Robb didn't think they meant literally. And shouldn't his father be king before him? Yet Thoros said his mother was dead, killed when Robb was, so maybe his father was dead too. Then there was the matter of his wife who he could not remember. That bothered him more than anything else. Lem and Harwin said she was the reason he was killed. They said he shouldn't have married her. He wondered why and he couldn't answer that question himself one way or another.

That question blared in his head more and more as the river they settled near continued to occasionally turn red due to the amount of blood spewed in it and bodies continued to float pass the group every now and then. This supposed Red Wedding was apparently caused by he and his wife and he could not remember how or why.

The Brotherhood pulled the bodies out and Thoros would examine them one by one, deciding whether to try his hand at resurrecting any of them or not.

The first person they brought back, a tall woman with long dark hair braided behind her and an empty scabbard attached to her belt, had stared at Robb like she had just seen the seventh hell. She hadn’t been grateful to be brought back, didn’t care about any Lord of Light or Great War. The woman, Dacey, didn’t want anything to do with any of it. She had disappeared after realizing Robb’s memory was all but gone. A few days later Grey Wind took him to where she hung herself. It made him glad he didn’t remember what had happened.

The second person was a great beast of a man. He had been wild-eyed and looking to fight, clearly not in his right mind and still reliving whatever happened that harrowing night. He had attacked the men and could not be calmed down. Between Beric, Anguy and Edric, they managed to kill him. Thoros didn’t bother bringing him back again.

They went much the same that way. Either the people Thoros chose to resurrect didn’t come back or they did and would either lose their minds and must be put down, or they would reject themselves as abominations and kill themselves. Robb had begun to check out of these endeavors of Thoros'. He was growing restless and had other things to focus on, like himself and Grey Wind. He often found himself sitting in the forest on the edge of what he dubbed the Brotherhood’s territory as it drew the line which Grey Wind refused to cross. There was a stream nearby the border and he’d sit there and try to remember. Beric said he should not force memories, but Robb hated this. He felt stuck in one spot, his life running on a loop: wake up, spend time with Grey Wind, watch the bodies pass in the river, watch Thoros enact his fantasies and wild imaginings, watch the Brotherhood execute their justice, rinse, wash, repeat. Over and over again, always watching and never doing. It was grating on him. His body was a pent up well of energy that he couldn’t release, so he left them to be alone in the woods with just Grey Wind and his mind. It didn’t really work, all he saw were faces doing mundane things but no names, no distinct memories.

He sighed with frustration and opened his eyes. He found himself staring directly into the yellow orbs of Grey Wind who watched him closely. In his dreams, he felt like he and Grey Wind were one. They ran through the forests together, hunting and running, but there was something off with Grey Wind just as there was something off with Robb. There was a connection to nature, as well as something else, that was not there anymore. It took Robb a while to remember that he had these dreams before and in them he could always feel his siblings, or Grey Wind could feel his, perhaps both. But not now. Dying and coming back had cut them both off from everyone else, from their pack. Robb looked at Grey Wind apologetically and the direwolf continued to stare.

“I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry you’re suffering for it.” He whispered to him. Grey Wind stared a moment more before licking the scars on Robb’s face and whining slightly, looking at something behind him. Robb glanced behind the huge wolf to see a body was floating up the stream. The river where the Brotherhood settled forked off in a few directions to create streams throughout the woods. Some streams were shallow and some deep, but the stream Grey Wind took a liking to was somewhere in the middle. However, it had managed to stay corpse free until now. There was a body floating up the stream. Robb stood up and stared at it as it floated towards him. It was a woman in a blue-grey dress with long dark hair and ashen brown skin. The abdomen of her dress was covered in dry, brown blood. Robb stepped closer to her and once she stopped, caught on a rock, he did as well.

He stared down at her. It had been around four or five days since the supposed Red Wedding. Long enough for her body to begin to bloat and red foam was dribbling out of her mouth. The sight wasn’t a pretty one and Robb should look away, but he couldn’t. Despite the state of her there was something about her that seemed familiar in a way. Robb eyed her closely, trying to place her. His eyes slid away from her face and down her arm until his eye caught her hand. There was a ring there. A simple grey steel band with a direwolf head and a tiger head crossed over one another. Suddenly a smiling face made its way to his mind. He could remember being intrigued by this woman, smiling at her, kissing her, loving her, marrying her, speaking the words that would seal their doom.

_‘I am hers and she is mine, from this day until my last day.’_

He remembered watching her die.

Talisa.

He suddenly wanted to throw up right then and there. He bent over, his hands clutched on his knees as his stomach lurched but as he hadn't eaten anything substantial, nothing came out. He glanced up once more, staring at her. The woman he had loved. And she was dead now. And their child... Lothar Frey... They were going to name him Eddard.

"You should burn her." He heard a voice say. He turned to see Harwin standing on the edge of Grey Wind's chosen spot with an intense look on his face. He always gave him looks different than the others. He thought the man might've known him in his other life.

"Thoros won't be able to pass up the opportunity to try to bring her back. But the decomposition is already such that I'd shudder to think of what monster she'd become. And the babe in her stomach... best not to tempt any of the Gods with this." Robb turned back to Talisa. No, he wasn't going to let Thoros get his hands on her.

Harwin wordlessly helped Robb move her body onto the grass. They gathered twigs and logs between them to pile around her for the fire and lit it swiftly. Robb watched her burn, his eyes not leaving her face as the flames engulfed her and burned her skin away. The smell it created was putrid and gag-inducing but he didn't look away. He couldn't. He caused this, his actions killed her. He wondered what her family was thinking, miles away in the Free Cities. Did they know what had become of their daughter, or would they spend years hoping for a visit from her and their grandson?

"They found your mother." Harwin announced with no prompting after a long silence. Robb looked over at him sharply.

"Did they...?" Harwin gave him a wordless look. Robb spared Talisa one more look before making his way back to the camp, his stomach in knots.

The men were gathered around her body, Thoros kneeling next to her and inspecting her. Robb felt a lance of worry go through him as he approached the men. They parted ways as he did and Thoros looked up at him briefly, a proud and satisfied smile on his face. Robb's eyes were trained on the woman. She too was in a state of decomposition. She was naked as the day she was born. He tried hard not to think on what the Freys might have done with her body. Her throat was slashed open and blood was caked onto her chest and her long, deep red hair. Her eyes were cloudy, but he could just make out the blue in them.

Blue eyes that used to look at him with love and pride and trust and affection. His mother had put her hope and belief in him and he had let her down. He got her killed.

Staring at her, he remembered many things. He remembered the promise he made to her. He told her they would be together with their family again soon, but Father was dead and the boys, Robb just somehow knew, were dead too. The brown-haired girl was lost if not dead. He failed. They weren't reunited in life but perhaps in death. And so, when Thoros leaned over her again to utter his prayers Robb spoke up.

"Don't." He said, his voice raspy and weak but Thoros heard.

"Don't what?"

"Don't wake her. Leave her." Thoros narrowed his eyes as if to see if he was serious.

"Now look—"

"No, there's nothing to look at or think about. You won't bring her back." He continued, his voice strengthening with resolve with every word.

"Want to be the special one, do you? Look Stark, the Lord of Light needs warriors to fight against the—"

"I said no." He continued. He knew deep in his heart that his mother would not want the existence that Robb was living, he knew she would be against this. She had been a devout follower of the Seven, she would not thank him for this "gift".

"The Red God—"

"I'm getting tired of repeating myself, priest." Robb said, anger stirring inside of him. This was new, anger. He hadn't remembered when last he felt anything but numb despair and confused melancholy. He felt a righteous anger growing in him now in defense of his mother against Thoros' desecrations.

"This power isn't mine. I'm a drunk lecher of a priest. The Lord of Light decides if they come back or not, I just say the words. They come back for a purpose, a higher meaning." Robb scoffed in response.

"A higher meaning? What higher meaning was there in Dacey hanging herself from a tree? What meaning in Greatjon being so out of wits that he needed to be put down like an animal? What meaning in Owen throwing himself onto Lemoncloak's blade or Robin cutting his own throat with Edric's dagger? What meaning in Donnel casting himself into the river? You brought them back from death and they chose to die again anyway. What was the point? I know my mother better than you. My memory may be shot to the seven hells, but I know she wouldn't want to become the creature you made me just so you can assuage your... curiosities."

"That's what you think this is? You think it gives me great pride and satisfaction to see those brought back by the Lord not stick around long enough to find the purpose he imbued them with? Tell me, since you are so reviled by your own existence, why do you not follow suit with the others and end yourself?" Robb glared at the priest, not answering. The truth was he was afraid. He didn't remember if he had seen anything after death. He remembered snatches of voices, memories playing in his head but no great beyond or any reunion with family. He was afraid to find out what laid beyond. This world wasn't an ideal one, but at least he knew what he was getting here.

"Enough, the both of you." A strong voice said. Robb turned to see Beric approaching from beyond the trees, Edric Dayne following dutifully behind him.

"You heard the man's words, Thoros. He has made his decision." Thoros and Beric shared a long quiet look between them but eventually Thoros huffed in exasperation and retreated from his mother's body. Robb approached her, removing his cloak to lay over her. It was moot, all the men had already seen her laid bare, but it made him feel a modicum of ease to protect her modesty, even in death. He remembered propriety and duty were virtues to his mother.

"She is a Tully, your mother. When they die, they are laid to rest on the river, their bodies to burn and become one with the water." Harwin said somberly. Robb nodded in reply.

"We shall all gather wood for the pyre then, enough to lay her body upon and we shall send her adrift." Beric said with finality in his voice. They made quick work of it, gathering driftwood and using twine to fashion a raft. Robb laid her on it when they were done, leaving his cloak on top of her as they set her adrift. Anguy shot a flaming arrow at the wood when it was far enough away and set it ablaze, allowing her to burn and become one with the river as her ancestors had before her. After a while he heard Grey Wind's sorrowful howl burst through the trees. A hundred answering howls came from all over the woods, some close and some far. The men looked disquieted by it, but it sent a shiver of warmth down Robb's spine and he found himself tilting his head back and closing his eyes to revel in the noise.

**~*~*~**

“The wolves get bolder and closer every day. We’ll need to move soon.” Beric said to Robb one day. Robb had been distant from the Brotherhood ever since he found and burned his mother and wife. More and more memories came back every day and he did not like to remember around the men. It felt like Thoros knew whenever memories returned from the looks he gave him. It wasn’t all of his memories, he could tell that, but it was enough for him to start to gather names.

He looked over at Beric wordlessly. He didn’t seem outwardly worried, but Robb could feel it radiating off of him. Robb could feel the wolf pack’s movements, could track where they were. He had more and more wolf dreams at night. And he could feel a tendril of connection forming through Grey Wind. A sibling, a packmate was close. Robb wondered if they were among the wolf pack itself. He heard rumors of the pack led by a large, grey beast and he was curious. Curious enough to stick around.

“I’m staying.” He said simply.

“Young Wolf, that’s what they called you. I know what sigil your banners hold, I know you have your domesticated direwolf, but these are wild animals out here. They’ll rip you to shreds.” Beric said.

“I’m staying.” Robb repeated. Beric held his gaze before sighing.

“Thoros won’t be pleased. You do have a destiny, you know? There is a war to fight to the North. A darkness grows from those lands, getting stronger all the while. The War for the Dawn will be upon us soon and you are one of the chosen warriors. I hope I’ll see you there one day."

"You'll see me there one day, but not for any war. My brother is in the North, at the Wall." Robb's memories were incomplete, but he knew enough to know that Jon was important to him. Jon was his brother and his best friend. Robb was going to go see him again one day, one day soon but not now, not yet. He needed time and something else, something like closure but not quite. His mind turned to Talisa.

Talisa smiling at him.

Talisa dying.

Talisa burning.

He turned his mind away from it, guilt welling up in his chest and a terrible sense of loss for a woman he still half did not remember. Memory didn't seem to matter though, the pain was still great. It was too big a burden to bear North, it would either get him killed or he would end up dumping it on Jon, and that wasn’t fair to him. He needed to lay it down somewhere and he had a feeling where he needed to go next. Talisa’s parents deserved the truth.

"If you must part from us and you choose to stay here, perhaps you’ll run into another young wolf. I did not tell you this earlier for my own reasons, but I have met your sister, Arya. She is a fierce little thing, prone to bows and swords over dresses but she had to be to survive. We were going to hand her over to you and your mother, for a price of course, but she ran away into these woods. Perhaps you will encounter her here one day. Perhaps she has long died. Perhaps she is still with the Lannister’s Hound, who we also encountered or has gone on to the Crossroads Inn to be with her young fat friend. Perhaps she has gone across the Narrow Sea to Braavos to meet with the Braavosi companion she mentioned. Who can say? I hear your other sister also yet lives, a fugitive from the crown and now charged with regicide but alive. All this to say you are not the only Stark who yet lives, don’t forget that. It will mean more when your memories return in full, but you should hold that to heart.” Robb stared up at his fellow undead man.

He remembered a sprightly brown-haired girl who ran from her sewing to watch the boys fight. He remembered a stubborn girl who got herself dirty almost just to spite her mother and sister and who teased him and made him laugh at her crudeness. He remembered helping her escape her confinements at times, even knowing it was her duty to remain in a lady's place and his duty to not encourage or entertain her. Arya, his wild little sister.

He also remembered Sansa. His sweet, fiery-haired sister who sung in the godswood and sewed him gloves and scarves and cloaks. His sister who he snuck lemon cakes to during dinner and feasts. His sister who always wanted him to be her knight during their games, who always kissed his cheek when he saved her from the monsters. His sister who had been counting on him to rescue her, just another person he had failed to protect. He remembered her as dainty, delicate and fragile, not as a killer and he definitely couldn’t see her as a fugitive on the run but his memories were incomplete and beyond that things changed with time.

He should be upset that Beric did not tell him about Arya earlier, but he wasn’t. Half of his mind was not with the man even now but casted into the forest where there was another direwolf somewhere out there. Close and coming closer every day. A chorus of howls echoed distantly but too close for comfort, prompting Beric to nod in farewell before moving to retreat to the Brotherhood's encampment so they could leave and return to Hollow Hill.

Robb stayed in the forest, moving to a small clearing with Grey Wind and listening to the rustling of leaves mixed with occasional howls. Even as he heard the Brotherhood pack up and move away and he knew he was alone, he stayed focused on the wolf pack’s movements as they drew ever closer until they were finally upon him.

He opened his eyes only when Grey Wind stood up. There were eyes in the trees watching him, hundreds of them glowing yellow in the waning sunlight. Robb stood up slowly, glancing at the creatures who surrounded him. He should be afraid or concerned but he was not. He did not panic or move from his spot as the smaller wolves began to creep out of the forest, some with their teeth bared at him. Grey Wind stared down the bolder ones and they stepped back, not getting too close to Robb. He felt the presence before he saw it. He turned around to see a large form making its way out of the trees, as large as Grey Wind but leaner and a lighter grey. Its eyes were menacing and wild as they sized Robb up before it noticed Grey Wind. Robb watched Grey take tentative steps towards his littermate. Nymeria didn't move at all, staring at Grey cautiously. They sniffed around each other, both unsure, before some recognition must've filled them and Robb watched as they met one another, licking the other's fur and nipping at the other's ear in greeting. He felt a sad smile tilt his lips. He wondered if Arya was close, but perhaps not if Nymeria was this wild.

Robb approached the two with more abandon and less caution than any other man would. Nymeria approached him and smelled his hand before licking his fingers. He kneeled and scratched behind her ear.

"Hello Nymeria, I hear you have been kicking up quite the fuss for the Freys. Thank you. I suppose Arya isn't with you, elsewise you would not be so wild. Or perhaps she is with you, just as wild and hunting too." Nymeria seemed to understand him and cast her eyes outward, towards where the rivers were. The rivers would meet the sea eventually, become the Narrow Sea. Maybe Arya really did leave and go to Braavos, maybe he'd find her there.

"I will get our family back, Nymeria. I promised Mother that I would. I told her we'd all be together again, I promised and I failed. Father... he died, didn't he? Mother as well. Talisa. The boys too... but Jon lives, Sansa lives, Arya lives. I'll get them back. I'm going across the Narrow Sea. Talisa's family deserves to know what happened, deserves to have her remains to perform their proper funeral rights. Maybe I'll find Arya in Braavos, maybe I won't but I won't stop looking. I'm going to find her one day and when I do, we're going to come back for you. All of you I suppose." Robb continued, glancing around at the wolves.

"Just wait for me. I will come back, I won't break this promise." Once again Nymeria seemed to understand him. She stepped forward and nudged her nose against his cheek before pressing her head down towards his. Robb met her fur with his forehead and stayed there for a while, his head pressed to Nymeria's.

"Until I return." He said as he pulled away from her. He remembered saying those words before, to the boy, the squirrelly young boy confined to bed. But he hadn't returned, and the boy died. Bran died, and Rickon too.

 _Not again._ Robb vowed in his head. He had a heading now, that was something.

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be much longer and include Robb going over to the free cities and meeting Daenerys and eventually reuniting with Jon and Sansa and fighting against the Night King but I don't have enough in the tank to write that 11K+ fic, but anyone whose feeling this, feel free to message me ideas.


End file.
